


Retribution

by HunterusHeroicus93



Category: NCIS
Genre: Gen, Injured Timothy McGee, Kidnapping, Revenge, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:22:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25176097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HunterusHeroicus93/pseuds/HunterusHeroicus93
Summary: I decided NCIS did not have enough hurt!McGee, so I have rectified that.Enjoy! <3
Comments: 7
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I decided NCIS did not have enough hurt!McGee, so I have rectified that.
> 
> Enjoy! <3

McGee sighed deeply as he slipped off his coat and boots. Almost thirty-six hours without sleep, and he was ready to collapse onto his bed fully-clothed. The satisfaction he felt in finally catching the murderer of Lieutenant Shane Metcalfe barely registered through his exhaustion. He washed his face, brushed his teeth, and headed towards his bedroom. The main door to his building slammed, but he took no notice. Settling back into his pillow, he hummed blissfully. Sleep took over him almost immediately.  
  
He was disturbed by a sudden, cold sensation at the base of his neck. Without opening his eyes, he raised a hand, but a voice stopped him.  
  
“Don’t move,” it hissed.  
  
He stiffened. The gun clicked.  
  
“Who are you?” he whispered.  
  
“Shut up.” A hand pulled back the covers and grabbed his arm, pulling him into a sitting position. He obeyed the directions without a sound, not wanting to spook whoever the guy was into shooting him. He heard the rattle of his handcuffs and his stomach twisted. They dropped into his lap. He knew what was expected of him, but he didn’t move.  
  
“Cuff yourself.”  
  
He did as he was told, slowly. There was no way he was getting out of this. His gun was under the pillow, his phone on the bedside table. As soon as the cuffs clicked shut, he was pulled to his feet and pushed out of the room.  
  
“Let’s go, Agent McGee.”  
  
McGee swallowed nervously. The use of his name wasn’t a good sign. Clearly, this was personal.  
  
***  
  
Tony arrived at his desk the next morning in his usual manner. He stopped mid-tangent about the woman he’d met last night when he saw that he was talking to himself. He dropped his bag at his desk and looked around as the elevator dinged and Ziva stepped out.  
  
“I wondered when you two were going to show up. I’ve been here a whole hour already,” he grinned.  
  
Ziva narrowed her eyes at him. “Do not lie, Tony. I saw you in the lobby five minutes ago. And, in case you had not noticed, I am alone. McGee must not be far behind me, though. He is never late.”  
  
Gibbs entered as Tony was thinking of a snarky comment about McGee’s punctuality.  
  
“Morning, boss!” Tony greeted him cheerfully.  
  
“Where’s McGee?” Gibbs asked.  
  
“He’s not here yet,” Tony said.  
  
“I can see that, DiNozzo. Call him.”  
  
“Yes, boss,” Tony said, dialling McGee’s number. It rang several times before being cut off. “He’s not answering.” Tony and Ziva exchanged a look.  
  
“Maybe he is sick,” Ziva suggested. “He might have emailed.”  
  
Gibbs opened his email, but there was nothing from Tim. Worry flared in his chest, but he kept his expression stoic.  
  
“Keep calling him until he answers, Tony,” Gibbs instructed. Tony nodded, dialling again.  
  
Gibbs’ phone rang at the same time. He looked at the caller ID before answering.  
  
“McGee, where are you?”  
  
“Got a problem, boss. I need you to meet me. I’ll text you the address.” The line disconnected, and Gibbs looked up at the remainder of his team.  
  
“Grab your gear. Something’s wrong."


	2. Chapter 2

“He’s not stupid, you know,” McGee said. “He’s gonna know something’s up.”   
  
“What did I tell you about talking?”   
  
“You don’t have to do this. If you let me go now, we can work something out -” McGee grunted as the gun connected with the back of his head. “Shutting up.” Shifting uncomfortably on the chair, he shivered as a cold breeze rippled through the empty building. His toes curled in an attempt to retain heat, and his teeth chattered. He licked his lips, the metallic taste of blood clinging to his tongue.   
  
“McGee?”   
  
Gibbs’ voice echoed from somewhere nearby. McGee held his breath. Gibbs appeared, walking towards them calmly, his weapon holstered. If he was at all worried about the situation, he didn’t show it. He acted as if they were meeting for coffee in the park.   
  
“Who’s your friend, McGee?” Gibbs asked casually, eyeing the cuts and bruises on Tim’s lip and forehead.   
  
Tim said nothing.   
  
“He doesn’t want you speaking, huh?” Gibbs noted. McGee shook his head.   
  
“Hey!”   
  
Gibbs looked up at the young man. “Hey.”   
  
“What are you doing?”   
  
Gibbs shrugged. “Thought I was meeting with my agent.”   
  
“I made him call you. I texted you this address!”    
  
“Okay. Why?”   
  
“Because I want my brother back.”   
  
Gibbs said nothing.   
  
“Did you hear me? I said ‘I want my brother’!”   
  
“I heard you. Who’s your brother?”   
  
“Jason Parkes. You put him away yesterday. But he didn’t do anything!”   
  
“He killed a Marine, Dylan.”   
  
“No! He didn’t. I don’t believe you.”   
  
“He confessed. We have evidence.”   
  
“Boss, I already -” McGee was cut off as Dylan hit him again.   
  
Gibbs narrowed his eyes. “Hey! That’s enough.”   
  
“Shut up. Just… get my brother out of prison. Now.” He pressed the gun to the back of McGee’s head. “Or I kill him.”   
  
“I can’t do that, Dylan.”   
  
Dylan glared, tightening his grip on the gun. “What do you mean?”   
  
“It could take hours. I’d have to make phone calls.”   
  
Dylan paced. Fresh, angry tears renewed the stains on his cheeks. He ran a hand through his shaggy, matted hair.   
  
“You’ve got thirty minutes.”   
  
“It’s not going to happen.”   
  
Dylan moved directly behind McGee and held the gun under his chin. McGee stiffened.   
  
“He doesn’t have much time, Agent Gibbs.”   
  
“What do you think is going to happen, Dylan? Tim’s your leverage. Shoot him, and you’ll be next.”   
  
Dylan snorted. “You’re unarmed. Do you really think I won’t shoot before you can even take out your gun?”   
  
Gibbs shook his head. “No. But  _ they  _ will.”   
  
Dylan whirled around as Gibbs gestured behind him.   
  
“Drop the gun!” Ziva shouted.   
  
“Hands in the air,” Tony ordered.   
  
Dylan let out a frustrated yell and turned the gun back on McGee. Two shots echoed throughout the building, and a body collapsed to the ground with a thud.   
  
McGee opened his eyes and looked up at Gibbs, exhaling slowly. Gibbs stowed his gun back in its holster and took out his handcuff keys. He carefully unlocked McGee’s hands and inspected them. His wrists were red and inflamed, his fingers stiff.   
  
Tony checked Dylan’s body for signs of life while Ziva put her own weapon away and hurried over to help Gibbs.   
  
“He’s dead, boss,” Tony confirmed, getting to his feet.   
  
Ziva wrapped an arm around McGee's waist and helped him to his feet. “Are you okay, McGee?” she asked.   
  
“Yeah, Ziva. Thanks.” His knees buckled, and Gibbs caught him.   
  
Gibbs nodded at Tony. “Call Ducky. Let’s get Tim home.”


End file.
